


At the Point of His Sword

by jusrecht



Category: Code Geass
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Shakespeare butchery, romeo and juliet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2008-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 08:46:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2061636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jusrecht/pseuds/jusrecht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>‘Romeo and Juliet’</i> gone horribly wrong. Total AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_JULIET: My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! [1]_

\-----

When his mother called him to her quarters one summer afternoon, Gino knew at once that it had something to do with _the_ party.

She did not disappoint. As soon as he had set both feet inside her room, tears started to flow from the corner of her eyes, which she affectedly dabbed with a dainty handkerchief. Gino found himself torn between strong filial duty and an even stronger impulse to run away.

“Mother?” he inquired uneasily, opting to stay as close as possible to the door in case circumstances necessitated him to execute a swift escape.

“My son,” Lady Weinberg gracefully held out a hand toward him. “My wonderful, handsome little boy. How good of you to come.”

Gino smothered a wince. He was familiar with his mother’s dramatic flair, but getting used to it was an altogether different matter. He took a deep breath to fortify himself and approached her, his footsteps low and muffled on the finely woven Persian rug which covered the floor. His mother was seated in a velvet armchair by the window, surrounded by an assortment of colourful embroideries she had been working on. She made a striking picture of a beautiful, highborn lady in her equally elegant chamber, her golden hair arranged in an elaborate knot at the top of her head, and her blue eyes, as bright as the summer sky, looking expectantly at him.

“Come, sit by my side,” she beckoned toward the chair next to hers. Gino seated himself down gingerly, suspicion multiplying by the second. This was going to be awful.

“I believe you have been made aware of the most recent incident involving your eldest brother and the Britannia heir,” she started, her voice quivering slightly. Gino nodded but refrained from offering a comment, even the most perfunctory. He had heard about it from one of the pageboys. Apparently, his eldest brother had taken a walk into the town this morning and acquired himself the most unfortunate meeting with the heir of the Britannia family. Quite unsurprisingly, the chance meeting had quickly escalated to a contest of insults.

And – again, quite unsurprisingly – his brother, who irrefutably possessed a much inferior aptitude in the field of public debate compared to that of the Britannia’s heir, had decided to turn the dispute into a contest of strength. With five men to support him, his victory had been as certain as the rising of the sun on the morrow – against two teenage boys no more than seventeen no less.

And then the element of surprise entered the story. The servant of Britannia, that boy of no more than seventeen, had proceeded to single-handedly defeat his brother and the rest of the Weinberg entourage. For the rest of the day, Gino had heard various names, many of which quite unutterable in public, directed to ‘that boy’ from his siblings. Such disgrace to the hallowed name of their family. Such infamy.

To be perfectly honest, he was more amused than anything. He had never taken much interest in these feuds, this long-standing enmity between the noble house of Weinberg and the noble house of Britannia which origin no one could tell anymore – it had been lost forever in the ocean of time, between its rippling waves. He was much more interested in beauty and the simple marvels of the world. Why spill blood and spread hate if one could share smile and harvest love?

“I simply cannot understand,” his mother was speaking, still immersed in her tale of woe. Gino found himself stealing wistful glances at the door. “Such meaningless hatred, and for what? Nothing. Only more hatred, more suffering for we must live day by day under its treacherous shadow. What shall I do if it eventually takes my children from me?”

Ever the devoted son, Gino reached for her trembling hands. “Please calm yourself, Mother. Your sons are all extensively trained in the skill of the blade and the art of fighting. We assure you that we cannot be struck down so easily.”

“But you have heard about this servant with the terrible, inhuman skill, have you not?” She was quite hysterical by now, voice trembling, tears flowing. “If Britannia wants, he can simply order this… this _fiend_ to murder you all and I shall be left alone to tend the rest of my days in misery and utter solitude.”

Gino bit down an urge to make his feelings on the matter known and only took a deep breath. He was perfectly aware that he was walking into a trap, but there seemed to be no other choice. “If there is anything I could do to alleviate this anxiety from your mind, Mother,” he said solemnly, “I shall do it gladly.”

“Oh, my wonderful son.” She was now smiling radiantly, a touch of maternal pride in her eyes. “How noble you are, how devoted. I shall never forget your love and kindness toward your mother. And yes, I do, as a matter of fact, have an idea. Only a little one, but it is most delicate in situation and difficult in execution. And not to mention, you may be risking your father’s wrath as well if this plan by any chance succeeds. Are you still willing to do it for me?”

“I shall try everything within my capacity, dearest mother,” he heard himself saying bravely.

It was now her who was holding his hands. “I cannot ask for more,” she replied earnestly. “I have the utmost confidence in you, my dear child. Now let us speak of the details. You are aware, are you not, that the Britannia family will hold a ball tonight to celebrate the coming of age of their only daughter?”

“How can I not? The news spread in the city like a wildfire,” he answered with an uncertain laugh, still wary about the direction of this conversation.

“Indeed,” his mother nodded. “They are obviously not one for modesty. And do you not agree, that so powerful a hate which has ravaged our two great families for far too long can only be appeased by a passion as much powerful if not more?”

Gino blinked. “I’m afraid I do not quite understand, Mother.”

“Love, my dear,” she said breathlessly, “is the most powerful of all.”

His expression must have been that of a total loss since his mother then spoke again. “Have you ever seen this young lady of the Britannia family?” she asked, a curious light in her eyes.

“Nunnally vi Britannia? Well, yes, but only from afar,” Gino answered carefully. He could not yet perceive his mother’s intentions, but he could tell that they were far from good, at least for him.

“Is she not a handsome lady?”

“Very handsome, Mother, but what–?”

“Splendid,” she sounded ecstatic. “You may just be the saviour our family has been hoping for, my good son.”

“I still cannot see how or why–”

“Let me tell you how,” she pulled him closer, her voice lowering into a secretive whisper. “You will go tonight to the ball – _masquerade_ , as a matter of fact – and meet this young lady. It may have been by chance, a meeting orchestrated by the Lady Fate herself, and isn’t it a most romantic notion? And of course it is entirely possible that the two of you will fall in love with each other – such grand passion upon the young is unstoppable! And then you will be able to join our two great families in holy matrimony and thus ends hundreds of years of enmity.” She clapped her hands together, eyes glittering with excitement. “Oh, it will be the most wonderful thing! A great fortune indeed for both families, not to mention immeasurable happiness for our two children! You must not let this chance go by!”

“But that is not possible, Mother.”

His swift refusal seemed to crush her heart. “But why not?” she whispered anxiously, her lips quivering. “Oh, my dear child, you are not implying that you have given your heart to someone else, are you?”

Gino felt his lips thinning. “No, that is not the case,” he said flatly. He had never considered what he felt for Anya as love – or at least that grand passion his mother was so fond of going into rhapsodies over. She was a best friend, an absolutely wonderful one, and now that she had been proposed to by the nephew of the King himself, there seemed to be no point of letting this feeling to linger. His family might be very influential, but to go against the Crown was simply the quintessence of madness.

He had gotten over her, at least reasonably. This was he had been desperately telling himself in the past two months.

“Then pray tell me, what is it?” Clearly his mother still refused to give up.

“Because it is impossible, Mother,” he replied firmly, now getting upset himself. “I have never heard of something so ludicrous. Two strangers who have never met before falling in love at first sight? Even if I manage to commit such inane silliness, I dare say any sensible young lady will not.”

“But you are an exceptionally handsome, delightfully charming young man, my son,” she encouraged. “Why, if I were the young lady myself, I would have fallen in love with you in a heartbeat.”

Gino smothered a wince. It was not something one would want to hear from one’s parent, but his mother had always been much too free – and unguarded – in her speech, one thing which his father regretted every now and then but continued to turn a blind eye upon in the name of affection.

“A considerable problem still stands,” he pointed out, a final, desperate attempt to disentangle himself from his mother carefully-woven traps. “Neither of us has been invited to the ball, Mother, and to procure an invitation now when the hour is so late is without doubt out of the question. And that is if they are willing to consider inviting us in the first place, which given the state of history between our families is even more out of the question.”

“Ah yes, the invitation.” She folded her hands neatly, one atop the other on her lap, an enigmatic smile curving her lips. “A considerable problem, yes, but I happen to know that Lady Earlstreim has received one.”

Gino stared at her. “Mother,” he whispered, a nauseous feeling rising in his stomach, “you did not.”

“But her fiancée is not here to escort her, Gino,” she said innocently. “Do you think it is wise for a young lady of such high rank to attend a ball alone?”

“Well, do you think it is wise for an _engaged_ young lady of such high rank to be seen in public in the company of another man?” he retaliated, irritation for the first time slipping into his voice.

“But you are a good friend of hers,” she reasoned. “I am sure the amiable earl will not mind.”

Gino found himself unable to retaliate in front of this tremendous, perhaps somewhat misplaced determination infusing every word coming from her lips, every expression shifting on her face. He slumped even deeper in his chair and regretted, more than ever, his decision not to leave when he still had had the chance. “These are all so incredibly absurd,” he murmured, deliberately avoiding her eyes in hope that she would take pity on him. Surely a mother’s heart was not made of stone, above all before her son’s profound suffering.

“You have promised me that you will try,” she reminded him gently. There was a beseeching look in her eyes and suddenly he discovered that it was his heart which was not made out of stone. “That is all I ask, my dearest. One try, and who knows, by the will of the gods or others, perchance you will set eyes upon your true love at tonight’s ball.”

He could not help a dry laugh. “My true love.”

“Fate is whimsical and capricious,” his mother said, in a voice which held many secrets and wonders of the world. “She may decide to give you a chance, but you must be there to take it from her hand.”

Unhappy as he was with the entire arrangement, Gino still could not help a little smile. “Was that a line from another book?”

Lady Weinberg’s expression was solemn when she replied, “Books are my only consolation now that my days are so closely intertwined with fear for my sons’ life.” She sniffled softly, once more on the verge of tears, and gave him a look so utterly heartbreaking that it was impossible to be anything but an exaggeration. “Will you not listen to your mother’s request? Just this once?”

Gino sighed deeply and resigned himself to fate. At this stage, it was already less painful than trying to prolong this conversation – in which he had lost regardless. “I shall try, Mother,” he said at last, the knowledge that he had practically thrown himself over the proverbial cliff a heavy shade in his voice, “but I can promise nothing if Fate is indeed as whimsical and capricious as you said.”

He was rewarded with a sweet, grateful smile. “That, my dear, is all I ask,” she said warmly.

\-----

Lelouch vi Britannia was not happy. He sat on a chair near a wide open door leading to the balcony, frowning every time the sound of cheer and delight from the merriment downstairs reached his ears.

 _Merriment._ He scoffed, twirling a chess pawn between his long fingers. As if this cacophony ever deserved such a name. He knew of the custom, of course, but there was no rule to say that he was required to be happy about it. And why would one be happy to see one’s dearest sister entering adulthood and having too many uncouth, horribly unsuitable suitors in her vicinity, impatient to take her away from one’s side? Upset would have been a better expression.

He glanced toward his sister who was still seated in front of the vanity, adding the last touch of powder and rouge to her pretty face with the aid of her maid. Nunnally, to his utmost disappointment, did not seem to mind this entire coming-of-age business. True, it allowed her to appear in public socially, but Lelouch felt that its less pleasant sides were rather overwhelming compared to what she – and he, in that matter – gained in return.

“What do you think, Brother?”

Nunnally stood up and twirled around once, her pink silk dress flaring out magnificently down to the floor. It shimmered in the candlelight, laces and tulles and seed pearls, every inch beautifully embroidered. Above the scalloped neckline, she wore a silvery necklace of three exquisite pearls as its centre. His expression softened for a moment – why, she looked like an angel, pure, beautiful, _perfect_ – and then he remembered those so-called gentlemen waiting downstairs like wild lions ready to pounce a deer and it reverted back to a frown.

“Do you really have to come down all dressed up like this?” he voiced his disagreement.

A little pout curved her – god forbid, they were _red_ – lips. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Lelouch inwardly sighed. He did not have the heart to ruin her day, even if he found it to be thoroughly unbearable. “You are beautiful,” he said truthfully, allowing just the barest hint of longing to touch his voice. “Too beautiful in fact, that I fear you will not return to your brother once you have descended these stairs, for you have no sooner arrested the attention of a noble prince who before the night grows old will have demanded for your hand in marriage.” He closed his eyes, an expression of pain twisting his face. “Tell me if my fears are unfounded.”

“Your fears are unfounded, dear brother,” she said placidly.

“I happen to disagree.”

Nunnally’s laughter was as clear as the tinkling of a silver bell as she took his hands in hers, pulling him to his feet. “Let me assure you that I have no intention of leaving this family – and most certainly not you, Brother – so soon,” she solemnly promised and slipped her arm around his.

Lelouch was not willing to be appeased. “I still do not understand the purpose of this party,” he said petulantly but let her lead him to the balcony, brother and sister arm-in-arm.

“Well, a young woman of fifteen–“

“I know that we need to celebrate your debut,” he interrupted her, his eyes sweeping across the vast night sky and the garden down below where a celebration of music and laughter was going on. A carnival of colours, shifting and glimmering between little flickers of fire from elevated torches and brightly burning candles. Breathtaking as the sight might be, it could not mislead him from despising its true nature. “But what is the purpose of inviting a band of loud, insufferable misfits such as them?” He waved a hand toward the male population of the guests in general

“I believe our mother’s intention is to attract suitors,” his sister answered with a marked lack of abashment.

Lelouch glowered. “I absolutely loathe that idea,” he declared stiffly, clasping her fingers between his even more tightly. “Never speak of it again in my presence.”

Nunnally tried to hide a smile behind a lacy sleeve but failed. “Yes, Brother.”

“Every man who tries to court you are required to seek _and_ win my approval first before he can proceed,” Lelouch continued, plans already forming in his head. “Without exception, even those who claimed to be princes and nobles of high rank. Be sure to let them know about this.” _And hopefully it can discourage them from trying ever again_ , he silently added to himself.

Nunnally raised a pair of perfectly shaped eyebrows. “But how will you determine any of them to be worthy of your approval?”

Lelouch did not bother to contain his smile as he tilted his head slightly to whisper in her ear. “I shall tell them to cross blade with Suzaku and see if any can win against him.”

“Oh, Brother!” she exclaimed, horrified but amused at the same time. “That is too wicked! No one will be able to earn your approval if such is the demand you exact!”

“My point precisely,” he deadpanned and looked around for the young man in question. “Where is he, by the way? He is supposed to escort you down with me right now – not that I mind if you stay here all night and do not come down at all.”

Nunnally rolled her eyes, as unladylike the action was. “Father summoned him on a matter of security earlier,” she explained. “He said it would not be long.”

Lelouch frowned. “Security? I thought we had agreed that he could enjoy the party as a normal guest.” That the news turned out to upset him was not surprising, at least for him. He had found himself growing unusually protective toward his friend of late, and while this discovery had perplexed him at first, now he simply embraced it as a part of him which he could not deny.

“I reminded him about it, but he said that he did not mind,” Nunnally replied with a sigh.

“Did he ever mind anything?” Lelouch said dryly. As much as he and Nunnally tried to ensure the other boy that they were in no way above him despite the distinguished status of their family or his foreign origin, Suzaku continued to regard himself as a servant. Lelouch was very willing to blame his father’s notoriety if he had not discovered that this determination mostly came from his friend’s own humble nature.

“Why do you not mind him, Brother?” his sister’s soft, melodious voice suddenly asked.

“Who?”

“Suzaku.”

He shifted his eyes away from a couple who seemed to be engaged more than just dancing near a row of tall rosebushes and looked at his sister oddly. “Why would I mind him?”

“Well,” there was a deliberate pause and the expression on her face became slightly more coquettish than what he was comfortable with, “he is an exceedingly attractive young man, and as far as I am concerned, may become a fine suitor too one day,”

Lelouch decided that he despised the theory with all of his heart. “No, he will not,” he answered stiffly.

Nunnally gave him a look of utter surprise. “Brother, are you saying that you think of him as one of a lower status and therefore is unsuitable to ask for your sister’s hand? After everything we have been through together all these years?”

“I am saying that any affection between you and Suzaku is surely much deeper than this fickle thing these young men have the nerve to offer you,” he said firmly, leaving no room for argument – only enough for him to make his escape.

“Well, if you put it that way,” she admitted with a sigh. “I do regard him as a brother, at least for now.”

His eyes focused on hers, a blue colour as deep as the sea on a clear summer day. “What exactly are you implying?” he asked slowly, cautious now since this might prove to be a vulnerable terrain for them both. Was it possible that his sister harboured a certain secret affection toward Suzaku? He found the thought disconcerting, and more than a little daunting for he had absolutely no intention to hurt her in any way, on any level.

“Nothing, my honoured elder brother,” Nunnally answered innocently, but the twinkle in her eyes spoke of much less innocent things. “Pray do not trouble your mind. I am sure there is someone else far more suitable to give our dearest friend happiness than I can ever hope to.”

She smiled and Lelouch cleared his throat, looking away from her knowing eyes. There was, indeed, someone else. He was just not entirely sure how to tell Suzaku that.

\-----

“Have you seen her?”

“No,” Anya answered, sounding completely indifferent as per usual. Her voice always had a certain detached, far-away quality that Gino found rather endearing. He sent a furtive glance in her direction – she was stunning in her silvery white gown, almost aglow like the moon itself. Her pink hair was elaborately arranged on top of her head with many small wreaths of flowers and her normally half-lidded eyes seemed larger now that they were framed by a glittery, butterfly-shaped mask. So beautiful and so cold, he reflected with a quiet sigh, and so untouchable like a northern star as the shadows of the night faded away to a pale winter morning.

It was with great willpower that Gino forced himself to return to the task at hand. The night was deepening and he had yet to catch a glimpse of his target. He once more swept his gaze across the dancing crowd but immediately became deeply discouraged. The ball was quite a magnificent sight beneath the shroud of cloudless night sky, but all this beauty and splendour made it even difficult for him to distinguish one lady from the other. It did not help that he had only ever seen Nunnally vi Britannia a few times and from quite a distance at that.

“Are you serious about this?” Anya suddenly spoke again. Her voice was devoid of any curiosity despite the enquiring nature of the sentence, but she was now looking at him with a pair of eyes equally devoid of any emotion. Gino thought of how like a doll she was sometimes.

“My mother was quite adamant,” he said plainly, for honesty came all too easily to him in her company. “She was entirely without doubt that once a proper meeting had firmly taken place, we will fall in love with each other in a matter of heartbeats.”

“And supposedly you do not?”

Gino released a dramatic sigh. “Then I suppose I shall have to continue my search for true love elsewhere and leave these two great families to carry on with their time-honoured feud in peace.”

Anya said nothing in return. He cast another sidelong glance toward her, but her eyes remained inscrutable in their opaque colour – always a barrier, never a window. She would forever remain a mystery to him.

An excited murmur from a group of young noblemen conversing nearby pulled his attention toward the balcony. Gino blinked, holding his breath. There _she_ was, a beautiful young woman dressed in pink, standing aloft like an angel who had just descended from the heavens above to grace this lowly earth with her presence. She was talking quietly to a dark-haired young man whom he secretly hoped was _not_ her brother, for it would provide him with a perfectly reasonable explanation to placate his mother on the face of his failure – other than the whimsicality of Fate.

But then the young man disappeared into the mansion and the lady was left standing alone, looking into the faraway distance beyond these lofty walls. Gino found himself standing before a forked path, filial duty and common sense once more engaging in a skirmish of an epic proportion.

“There are stairs at the back of the mansion,” Anya said all of a sudden, eyes briefly flickering toward him before continuing their impassive scrutiny on an indiscriminate spot among the crowd, “if there is still a plan to follow.”

Duty won, all bloodied and tattered, and Gino sighed deeply. “I cannot turn a blind eye to my mother’s wish,” he said mournfully and adjusted his mask. “It is only for that reason that I now shall see if tonight Lady Fate has decided to smile upon my poor soul and take me to my true love. Wish me luck, dear friend.”

She only acknowledged his words with an expressionless look. Gino fortified himself with a deep breath before joining the crowd, wading his way through dancing pairs and chattering groups. A few times he took a surreptitious look toward the balcony, to make sure that the lady was still there – or the exact opposite, he couldn’t say for sure. Once he also cautiously looked around, to make sure that he had not roused anyone’s suspicion.

And that was when he saw _him_.

A young man, or perhaps even a boy in the bloom of his adolescence, with brown hair and the most beautiful pair of green eyes he had ever seen. He was alone, walking – nay, gliding – across the dance floor, not three paces away from him. A golden mask rested just beneath curly bangs, a beautiful complement to his white-green outfit and the sharp eyes which were intent on their observation to a small gate leading out of the garden. But they strayed off once, flashing toward the crowd, and – was it his own imagination? – lingered on his person one or two seconds longer than a mere professional inspection required that Gino was certain his heart had ceased to beat for a few moments.

One. And then two. Perhaps three. A breadth of eternity between two hearts as they beat as one.

Gino realised that he was staring, but he could not tear his gaze away from this breathtaking creature Fate led him to. Not exactly what his mother had in mind when she had devised the plan perhaps, but then again, what did it matter? He had found his true love and love was love in all its imperfections and deformities. Love was power in and for itself, blinding and overwhelming and greater than life itself. Love was invincible.

Then those eyes turned away, and along with their possessor disappeared through the gate. _The_ gate. Which led toward the back of the mansion.

Gino’s heart raced. Well, was it not convenient. After all, it was his intention to go to the mansion and seduce the young lady of Britannia. In his opinion, there was no significant harm in adding another objective – even if the new one happened to have arrogated the throne of importance from the original as had been assigned to him by his mother.

The hinges yielded with a small groan when he pushed the iron door to provide him entry. Beyond the gate was dark and deserted save for a pair of guards who was sitting around near a low hedge of Cape jasmine, sharing a plate of food they had probably acquired from the party table. He slipped past them easily and spotted the stairs Anya had mentioned earlier at the west side of the mansion, two flights of stone steps leading to the second storey.

But his love was nowhere to be seen.

Gino tried to contain his disappointment. He had to find that young man again, the holder of his heart since the moment they had laid eyes on each other. He _must_ , before everything was too late for his destiny might be sealed once he ascended these steps. He bit his lips, looking around frantically, praying for one more miracle, until he felt something hard and cold on the base of his neck.

And then there was a voice, low, firm, and dangerous.

“Stop right there.”

\-----

His hand was steady when he held the sword, its deadly tip aimed toward the intruder’s neck. Suzaku felt his face tightened with disgust. These stairs would take one directly to Lady Nunnally’s quarters. There was no doubt in him as to what the intentions of this man were.

How despicable.

“Turn around slowly,” he continued, his voice shifting slightly into the sharper margin he had learnt to be quite effective in these situations. “Do not try anything or this blade may cut your throat by mistake.”

Suzaku took one step back and watched as his order was followed with a defeated air. The man was very tall, with blond hair and three little braids at its end, and a pair of bright-coloured eyes that widened slightly when they had acquired a good look at him. The night was too dark to distinguish his features clearly, but even with the mask, Suzaku was absolutely certain that this man was not a member of the Britannia household. Anyone of consequence – and more importantly, with a rightful claim to enter her ladyship’s chamber – he would have recognised in an instant.

But he _did_ recognise this man. His eyes narrowed when he realised that the intruder was the same young man who had been staring at him mere seconds ago in the party. No doubt it was a part of some reconnoitre plan – the man must have recognised him one way or another as a servant of Lord Lelouch and Lady Nunnally – although he could only comment on how poor the endeavour was. Outright staring could hardly be called furtive, which defeated the entire purpose of attempting reconnoitre in the first place.

“Who are you?” he asked coldly, sword once again poised and carefully aimed to the stranger’s neck. “And please state your business here.”

“Who are you?” the echo came softly, a loving, deferential whisper. “And please allow me to kiss your rosy lips.”

The words sank in like a series of gigantic boulders falling from a great height onto the unsuspecting ground. Suzaku stared, stunned into utter incoherence as a hand reached past his sword and secured gloved fingers around his wrist. He made a small noise of surprise when the stranger proved himself to be as good as his words and kissed him fully on the mouth, another hand slipping behind his neck to pull him closer.

It took him a few breathless moments to recover from the moment of immobility, but even when he had, it was still the other man who took the initiative to break the kiss. It left them staring at each other, one in massive shock and the other in rapturous wonders. Suzaku swallowed, and realised with a flash of panic that he had his back against the ivy-grown wall of the mansion.

“You…” he breathed out, shakily, “what in the name of–”

“Love,” the stranger cut him off, sounding as breathless as he was. “It is the greatest passion, the law which governs all, and the essence of life itself. It is the song my heart sings for you, o fair one, since it yearns for the sweet taste of your lips and the feel of your warm skin upon mine.”

To say that he was dumbfounded would be a severe understatement. His understandings on these matters had been so far limited to small, demure hints from one of the maids or town girls with whom he often associated. None of them had ever approached him in this fashion and most certainly never this passionate. It seemed that this man, whatever his true intentions were, had discarded manners and decorum in favour of a greater impact.

And it was working, as mortified as Suzaku was to admit it. His grip on the hilt of his sword loosened and the blade clattered to the stone floor when the stranger hooked an arm around his waist and once more leant in, his intent as clear as day. Their lips brushed against each other, but no sooner had the kiss deepened, a shrill shout pierced the night.

“Suzaku!”

He broke away from the kiss and whipped his head up toward the source of the voice. His heart sank when he realised, with uncontainable horror, that Lelouch was looking down at the scene from the top of the stairs, his face lined with angry astonishment. The stranger seemed to notice this as well, for he released Suzaku from his arm and proceeded to bring his hand to his lips, kissing the back admiringly.

“ _This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, may prove a beauteous flower when next we meet [2]_,” he whispered, blue eyes promising things Suzaku did not dare to name at the moment. Another kiss was delivered most ardently to his hand. “I shall see you again, my love,” he promised and then hastily made his escape toward the gate as Lelouch’s voice came again, issuing angry orders.

“Capture that impertinent scoundrel and bring him to me!”

Two guards rushed past him in a hurry to carry out the mandate, leaving Suzaku standing against the ivy-grown wall, still robbed of both the power of speech and action.

 ** _End Part One_**  
\-----  
  
[1]: _Romeo and Juliet_ Act I Scene 5  
[2]: _Romeo and Juliet_ Act II Scene 2


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _'Romeo and Juliet’_ gone horribly wrong. Total AU.

Morning dawned bright and early the next day after a night of music and merriment, dissolving its spells into pale tendrils of reality. Life fell back to its dreadful monotony, for the moment of magic had ended with the first streaks of sunlight upon this green earth.

But three hearts lingered in the night before, three hearts which suffered in different turmoil and for different reasons. And this new day could only suggest either of two things for them: that it was going to be worse, or it was going to be better.

Gino was optimistic. Suzaku was more apprehensive than anything. Lelouch, on the other hand, was downright antagonistic toward life and a particular blond man who was unfortunate enough to cross the line he had set around himself and those he loved.

But the morning had dawned anyway.

\-----

 

It was a fine morning, in Nunnally’s opinion. She enjoyed the mild sunlight and the tender breeze slipping between her fingers and the long strands of her hair as she basked herself in the moment of peace. The garden made a lovely sight at this time of the year – not as impressive as springtime perhaps, but lovely nonetheless under the clear blue sky. She loved sitting here at her favourite spot, pursuing her favourite pastimes – embroideries this time – in the middle of these beautiful flowers laid out all around her like a carpet of many colours, a tribute to her mother’s fondness of plants.

As much as she had enjoyed the celebration last night, there was something about the tranquillity of a quiet morning which captivated her in a manner no other could. Particularly at this moment of the day, when the sun had yet to shine too brightly or too warmly, and the birds were still inclined to offer their choice of melody for the day. All peace and beauty, truly a gift from the heavens.

Her brother, however, seemed to have a vastly different opinion. After choosing the company of a book for the rest of the morning, he had then proceeded to neglect said company completely – for no matter how determined one stared at a book, it lost all its meanings and purposes if half-an-hour had passed and another page had yet to be turned. Nunnally felt something oddly akin to pity when she glanced at the poor volume, partly expecting the open page to combust from the weight of her brother’s burning gaze alone.

It was also the same pity which eventually stirred her into action. Putting down the light-green linen she had been embroidering on her lap, she looked at him and said gently, “Brother, you may want to choose another volume if that one cannot hold your interest for long.”

His eyes were swift to rest on her, guarded and more than a little defensive, but she had long since perfected her art of looking completely innocent. “Why ever did you say that, dear sister?” he asked quickly, a smile standing on guard to deter any more suspicion coming his way.

Oh, so they were going to play that game. Fine enough by her. Nunnally chose one among her sweetest smiles to grace her features and said again, “Why, even the most imperceptive little girl will notice when you have stared at the same page for at least an hour, Brother.” Not exactly the truth, but she did not mind a little overstatement as long as it served to help her winning this battle.

He rose to her challenge with an eloquent arch of eyebrows. “Surely you jest, Sister, for the sun is not that high up yet in the sky.”

“Oh, but it matters little,” she evaded flippantly. “The length of time is hardly the case in this subject, for you are in fact not concentrating in your reading and this, without question, is a proof that a trouble weighs heavily in your mind.”

Rather a roundabout way to approach an issue, but it eventually yielded the desired results. She could see the frustration her brother had been trying to conceal reappear to the surface, darkening his mien and plaguing his eyes. This relieved her somewhat, since it meant that he still did not mind to let his guard down in front of her – with the persistence of a little encouragement, that was.

“I do not know why my mind is unable to focus on anything today,” he admitted at last with a rather disconsolate air. The book now lay forgotten on the grass for he no longer had any need of pretence.

Nunnally looked down to hide her budding smile and picked up her unfinished work to provide an excellent cover of business. “Perhaps it has something to do with the incident occurring last night?” she inquired as naturally as possible.

Her brother was quick to respond. “Certainly not,” he said with a degree of vehemence which invited more doubts instead of certainty to his listener. She wondered if he had any idea how easy to read he was in matters like this. “Although I admit that I am still at a loss why Suzaku allowed that scoundrel to lay even one finger on his person,” he added with more warmth than what was strictly necessary in a subject concerning a mere friend.

Nunnally had her own guess on their friend’s evident lack of opposition but decided to keep it to herself at the moment. She was of the opinion that it was best to distance her brother from any depressing prospect when his mood was less than amiable, for they tended to provoke him in the worst possible manners. And she absolutely had no intention to disrupt the tranquillity of this morning, no matter how much she loved him.

At least not yet. It was entirely too possible that something might be able to tempt her later.

By now, her brother had risen to his feet and started to pace around to soothe his agitation. His eyes repeatedly glanced toward the other side of the garden as he did so, strengthening her suspicion in regard to the presence of a certain someone in the vicinity of that particular direction. While she was deeply sympathetic toward her brother and his obvious tribulations, Nunnally had to admit that she also derived more than a moderate amount of guilty pleasure from watching him floundering in agony of a threatened love. Truly there was nothing more effective than a possible competition to push one into motion.

She sighed quietly, in both contentment and anxiety. The problem now lay at the end of the road – whether or not the feeling was reciprocated. This, however, she was less certain. If only there was a way to find out for real, then perhaps she would be able to act accordingly…

“Why is Suzaku so awfully fond of flowers?”

Nunnally looked up from the detailed wing of a sparrow she was trying to embroider toward her brother who still had his eyes fixed to one particular spot. “Flowers?” she inquired in a perfectly gullible tone.

He did not answer, and so she shifted her sitting position slightly in order to follow his gaze. True to her supposition, the new subject of their discussion was there, immersed in one of his weekly morning rituals. She did not quite remember when it had started, but one day, she had just realised that Suzaku had been dedicating his Saturday mornings in the garden to help one of theirs gardeners, Rivalz, tending some flowers. The only reason why her brother had not raised further protest over what he often called employing their dearest friend in a lowly, menial job was that Suzaku had, in fact, enjoyed the activity.

That and he made quite a spectacle while carrying out this ritual of his, amidst the colourful field of flowers. With his tanned skin almost aglow under the clear sunshine, his copper-brown hair framed in the brightest of morning light, and his smile no less radiant than the sun itself, he painted a picture which took even her breath away. To this sight her brother had fallen victim far too many times and yet could never bring himself to act on it.

“Suzaku always likes pretty things, does he not?” she said placidly, a most subtle nudge to the tangled, fervently in-denial heart that was her brother’s.

“Oh, he likes everything.” This was spoken bitterly, with almost too much intensity behind it that Nunnally felt obliged to throw a glance at her brother from the corner of her eyes. There was a magnificent scowl twisting his countenance as he continued his scrutiny upon their friend.

“Well, that is true, I suppose,” she answered in a neutral fashion, unsure if this vehemence was indeed something she needed to take seriously or simply another example of his oftentimes extravagant reactions.

“And yet, he never likes anything in any particular manner,” he said again, followed with a wistful sigh. “Or anyone in that matter.”

Nunnally wisely abstained from offering a reply. At this point, her brother was obviously holding an exclusive conversation with himself, and she was more than glad to be an unobtrusive listener as he plunged into a lengthy, sometimes flowery description on how, unbeknownst to their wielder, Suzaku’s smiles had the power to destroy, or even kill. It then inevitably delivered him to an even longer narration – _hypothetically_ speaking, he insisted, since the character was purely fictional – in which there was a certain unmentionable young man who had found himself falling deeply in love with these smiles and yet unable to do anything about this – as he had so aptly put – romantic infatuation.

Throughout the soliloquy, there were moments when Nunnally had to apply everything within her power to suppress a giggle, even at times laughter in the lavishness and obvious carelessness of his speech. As much as she had enjoyed it, she was thankful when he abruptly tumbled into silence because Suzaku had looked up from a bush of gardenia and smiled at them both. Everything about her brother seemed to lighten up almost immediately, as if an invisible hand had reached up and parted the strips of dark clouds gathering above his head.

Nunnally sighed quietly. Love, such an enigmatic feeling. She wondered when her chance to experience this grand, overpowering emotion would finally arrive. Surely it could not be long now that she had stepped into adulthood. She could not bring herself to imagine a charming prince on a white horse, for she knew that all she wanted was a compassionate young man who loved her and whom she loved in return.

“Well, as long as he is happy,” her brother suddenly murmured, waking her from the mesmeric depth of her reverie. His gaze had yet to stray from the boy who had managed to capture his heart without knowing and Nunnally felt a faint tug of sympathy, even pity in her heart.

“Are you going to arrange a party for his birthday?” she asked softly, resting a hand on his tightly coiled fist. His eyes came to focus on her once more, the intensity in them rapidly lessening.

“Of course, but I shall have it slightly more special than usual since it will be his seventeenth birthday,” he answered readily. “A bigger party, I suppose, although of course there will be the problem of keeping it a secret from him.”

That, Nunnally silently decided, would be quite a disaster. Suzaku had never liked to be a centre of attention. He would be appropriately touched and thankful for the party since his pleasant, good-natured way did not allow him to be anything less, but he would not, in truth, be comfortable with it. Sadly, her brother was quite blind to these things when it came to spoiling his favourite friend.

“Perhaps you would like to celebrate the event in a quieter fashion, dear brother,” she suggested – as innocently as possible. “After all the age of seventeen signifies many things, does it not?”

She could feel the suspicious look his brother was giving him, but Nunnally was content to leave the rest of the conjectures to his capable wits. For one with his level of intellect, surely this chain of logic offered little to no challenge. Her part was to sit back and hope that she would receive happy news at the end of this week, that these two young men dearest to her had finally found happiness in each other.

Deep inside her heart, she wondered if all was indeed that simple.

\-----

The city painted a busy picture of the afternoon’s hustle and bustle, which Gino would have absolutely enjoyed watching and taking part in, had it not been for the heaviness of his heart. His mother was the chief subject of his distress, and the fact that he was – to put it bluntly and honestly – doing his best to elude her and therefore the many inquiries which she would undoubtedly make following the execution of her plan. Quite unsurprisingly, it made him feel terribly guilty. The youngest of four sons, his mother doted on him excessively and he was accustomed neither to deceive nor to disappoint her. This would definitely be a new experience.

But he would not give in. Gino was firm in his opinion that the young man he had met and kissed last night was the love he had only dared dreaming of his entire life. He knew it for sure, with the certainty of the sun climbing up higher into the sky, of the blood surging hotly in his veins, of the heart beating loudly in his chest. So deep and overwhelming was this love that not even the idea of going against his entire family could daunt him.

He heaved a deep breath, wishing that he could see that surprised expression again, kissed that unsmiling mouth. Suzaku, his name was. Gino wondered how beautiful he would look with a smile, or how desirable with his lips parted slightly, panting his name in great passion when they made love. But he knew next to nothing about him and this frustrated the young Weinberg to no end. Only his name, but oh he wanted to know so much more.

There was no one he could inquire too closely without rousing any suspicion, save for Anya, and she could only confirm that his love must be a member of the Britannia’s household. Gino had gathered as much – why, a sword had been pointed to his neck for his daring to come close to the lady’s chamber. He would say that Suzaku was a guard if he had not been wearing a noble’s finery. But if he was not a servant, then what was he?

Gino looked up to the sky, as if the sun and the clouds could provide him with answers. The day was young still and he had much time at his disposal now that he was keeping himself out of his mother’s sight. His mind strayed into a field of possibilities. Perhaps he could risk another glimpse into those beautiful green eyes, steal another kiss from those full lips.

But no. Trying to sneak into the Britannia compound in broad daylight for a Weinberg pretty much equalled a senseless suicide. He thought of Anya and the possibility of acquiring another help from her in this matter, but quickly rejected the idea. Neither could he seek for her company for the rest of the afternoon, either for the sake of a simple company or the wisdom of her counsel. There was the matter of propriety yet again. The fact that they had been intimate friends once made their association difficult to maintain in its old situation without having chins wag.

Gino sighed ruefully and resigned his fate to a singularly unproductive afternoon in the city. He made his way through sellers, hawkers, peddlers going neck-to-neck with each prospective buyer, only half-listening to the maelstrom of voices rising all around him, words and numbers tossed carelessly into the humid air.

It was then, through a strip of conversation between a man sitting in a cart partly filled with fruits and a plump woman who might have been his wife, that Fate once again showed him the way.

“It’s him,” the man said, pointing to a particular direction with his forefinger. There was something in his voice, a knowing, conspiratorial note which caused Gino to turn his head on instinct – and oh how he had never been more grateful that he had never ignored the gift of intuition like so many members of his gender.

There, standing in front of a girl selling an assortment of crockery, talking and smiling at her, was the love of his life. Right before his very eyes. Gino was too stunned by this blessed chance to allow himself any reaction for a long moment. Under the brightness of the sun, he looked even lovelier, with the lustre of his brown hair, the mirth in his wide, expressive eyes, and a smile that bewitched those who had a glimpse of it on his lips. Gino did not dare to approach, for he knew that he would immediately take the boy into his arms and kiss him passionately and such conduct was of course quite unacceptable before the public’s eyes.

“The servant from the Britannia family that I told you about,” the man said again while he still stood in uncertainty, torn between desire and a certain sense of decency, awkward but powerful still.

“That boy? You must be joking!” the woman responded breathlessly – she had a screechy voice. “Why, he looks so sweet and innocent!”

Gino found himself in a wordless agreement with this sentiment, his eyes never straying from the subject of the overheard conversation. Sweet and innocent would describe him perfectly at the moment, although the same could hardly be said about the young man he had encountered last night.

“No, I saw it with me own two eyes all right,” her – supposed – husband replied adamantly. “Sweet and innocent as he might look, he really beat up six men larger than he was yesterday. The Weinbergs. Good with sword, that young’un.”

Gino blinked. _What?_

A desire to laugh swept him all of a sudden, to which he gave in without any second thought. He processed this new information with a mixed feeling of astonishment and awe. Apparently the love of his life was the same person who had humiliated his eldest brother and his entourage so utterly yesterday morning. He was not sure if he should feel more horrified or amused by this bizarre coincidence.

“But if he’s here, that means his master must also be here somewhere,” the man continued with a knowledgeable tone. “They are rarely apart– ah, there he is.”

Gino recognised him at once. An exceptionally good-looking young man, dark-haired and dressed in Britannia’s regalia, was descending the stairs of a bookshop toward the crockery seller. The young lord of the Britannia himself, and the same person who had shouted at him last night for kissing his servant. He smiled and laid a protective hand on Suzaku’s shoulder, and Gino felt his eyes narrow at the sight. There was something in his indulgent smile, in the way he leant close to the other boy, which stirred the green-eyed monster inside him into full alert.

Suicide or no, he felt that it was time to arrange another visit to the Britannia mansion. Perhaps once dusk had fallen.

\-----

Something was wrong.

Suzaku shook his head, but the action barely helped to ease his mind. Both the cool night air and the mellow tranquillity of the garden were just as useless for once. The reason to his restlessness remained elusive.

Oh, he knew what – or _who_ , to be precise – the cause was without any doubt; it was the why which continued to elude him. While it was impossible to be completely unaffected after being kissed by a complete stranger, he could not understand why the incident should bother him to the point of agitation. After all, a man must be either a lunatic or a schemer with ill intents to kiss and declare passionate love to someone he had just met.

He blinked. Maybe that was exactly why. The man was an evil schemer who targeted either Lord Lelouch or Lady Nunnally, and as their closest friend and servant, he was on the way. Yes, that would explain everything perfectly. Suzaku was not a proud person, but he recognised his value to the family he was serving, and more importantly to the safety of his young lord and lady. It had not been out of charity, why Lord Britannia had taken him in – gratitude perhaps, for the service he had done for his offsprings seven years ago, but Suzaku knew very well that he wouldn’t have been where he was now if it had not been for his exceptional physical abilities.

That was that, then. The next time he met that man, if he indeed dared to show his face again, Suzaku would not hesitate to capture him and leave his fate in the hand of the Britannia family’s infamous gaolers. Most likely, it would put an end to any further scheme contrived by the particular faction who was accountable for dispatching him. A very satisfactory solution, in his opinion.

It seemed to Suzaku that the issue had been solved, at least for the moment. A part of him was relieved that he now had one less problem to worry about, and yet the rest remained uneasy. It was as if…

Suzaku scowled. He did _not_ want to entertain the theory that he was possibly affected by that kiss in any emotional manner. Maybe it was about time to end this walk. He turned around, intent on returning to his room before the night could lend him more strange ideas to ruminate. The small walkway would lead him back to his own place, a small cottage a little away from the mansion where the family lived.

It had been a long, difficult struggle to earn himself a permission from the family to live there. He had waged war with Lelouch when they had been twelve, only because the other boy wanted him to occupy one of the empty guestrooms in the mansion. But Suzaku had been so much aware, at that precocious age, that he was no longer a child and should take advantage of Her Ladyship’s kindness no more. He was a servant, and thus should be treated as one.

The solution had eventually come from the head cook. He had spent so much time in her kitchen, helping with everything he could, learning everything he could, that she had grown overly fond of him. There were many cottages in the extensive Britannia estate, she had said one day in the middle of peeling potatoes and cutting green beans, and most of them were left without care to lie in decline, so why not use one? A house taken care of was always better than one unoccupied, and hopefully, she had paused then to glance at him with a pair of shrewd eyes, it would appease the young master that at least he was not living among the servants.

Suzaku remembered that he had blushed back then. This practice of exclusivism had made him feel very uncomfortable, but he had to admit that it was an excellent suggestion, if only Lelouch would let him. To his greatest relief, the other boy – after countless suspicious inquiries and vehement remonstrances – had grudgingly accepted his explanation that he needed his own space and given his consent.

Suzaku had wanted to strangle him when he had found out that Lelouch was, in fact, the only one who had been making fuss over it.

The small sound coming from the hedge lining the left side of the path made him start. Suzaku placed one hand on the hilt of his sword, a purely mechanical reaction, and called out, “Who is there?”

A moment of silence passed and then there was the sound again, once, twice, steadily getting closer. Suzaku found himself gripping the hilt even tighter. Cool, gentle wind whistled down the path and a figure stepped out from behind the hedge as a nearby lamp flickered, its fire gleaming down at features now familiar enough to make him hold his breath.

“It is as if the gods themselves insist on our meeting again and again,” the blond man said, a grin bright and wide on his handsome face, now lacking the cover of a mask. It took Suzaku a few seconds to remember to unsheathe his sword and point it to the unwelcome intruder’s neck.

“Who are you?” he asked, unable to suppress the little tremor in his voice, but at least the sword he held was still steady.

“Ah yes, my name.” The stranger took one step back and bowed in a gentlemanly manner, heedless of the sharp blade which was still directed threateningly to his person. “Gino Weinberg at your service.”

Suzaku stared at him, unable to decide if he had heard correctly or not. “The youngest son of the Weinberg family,” he murmured, his mind racing through all sort of possibilities rapidly taking shape in its recesses. His evil-schemer theory seemed to make sense all of a sudden.

“I see that my reputation precedes me,” the other man said cheerfully. His eyes – the brightest blue, Suzaku could not help but notice under the brightly burning fire – briefly flickered toward the blade poised before him, a hint of wariness in them, before he spoke again. “Has it always been a habit of yours to draw sword against every stranger who crosses your path or is it an exclusive treatment you reserve solely for me?”

Suzaku felt his eyes narrow in suspicion. Growing up with Lelouch had sufficiently warned him against people who were proficient in the art of wordplay. “Give me one good reason why I should not kill you now,” he said, resorting to the most aggressive tactic at once.

The Weinberg grinned at him. “You have not told me your name,” he answered simply. “At least, not yet. I dare to hope that it will soon change.”

“My name,” Suzaku repeated, uncertainty shading his voice. He began to feel significantly more lost than suspicious, which was quite disturbing considering the circumstances.

“Yes,” was the firm reply. For a long moment, Suzaku could only stare at him. His mind failed to come up with any reason as to why this man wished to know his name at all. It must be some inane strategy designed to stall the time – for a purpose which he could not seem to fathom, but still, he decided not to fall into the trap.

“Kururugi Suzaku,” he answered tersely. “Is that all?”

“Oh, certainly not, my love.” The blond man made an indication to approach, but the sword was swift to react, once more a threat on the base of his throat. He quickly held up his hands in front of his chest in a reconciliatory manner. “This is a matter we need to discuss slowly and carefully. I do not come here to bring any harm to this family.”

Suzaku managed to maintain a vaguely unfriendly air – and at least his stubbornness still refused to lower the sword. “And supposedly I say I do not believe you?” he said sharply.

A look of resigned defeat settled on the other man’s face. “If such is the case, then I shall go down on my knees and beg you to cut my chest open and see if I am indeed lying.”

And then he proceeded to do just that. Suzaku felt his jaw drop open.

“What are you doing?” he hissed, half in shock, half in panic. “Stand up at once!”

“Not until you’ve sworn that you hold no doubt against my words,” the Weinberg said solemnly, eyes imploring and fiercely sincere. Suzaku must force himself to return his attention back to the dire gravity of the situation and the folly he had perpetrated – why, he had lowered his sword despite the man still being a possible threat, and he had not even realised he had done so.

“If you are speaking the truth, then why did you come?” he asked at last once he had successfully located his voice.

“To confess,” the reply was quick and straightforward, as honest as the eyes intent on his face. “Would it be imprudent of me to declare, to you and the entire world, that you have stolen my heart and soul?”

Suzaku gaped. He found that he had lost his ability to speak, and for a long moment could only stare at the man who had just practically declared his love for him. A complete stranger – an indisputably handsome and charming one, but _still._

“Yes,” he finally managed to answer – and almost winced at how so utterly helpless it sounded. Scavenging for splinters of his broken wits, he looked at the other man in the eye and tried to speak again. “In fact, it isn’t imprudence as much as lunacy. No one sane will declare love to someone they had just met the night before.”

“Yes, perhaps love has driven me mad,” the blond man sighed and yet never looked away even once, “but I know of one thing for sure. One thing only, and it is that last night I fell in love.”

Suzaku could feel his face burning as Gino rose to his feet and stepped closer, an effort abolish every distance left between them. He took one involuntary step back, severely torn between inexplicable attraction and a powerful urge to run away, when a hand gently touched his cheek. “ _Every man has his fault and honesty is his [1]_ ,” the other man said softly. “I spoke from the deepest of my heart, my love. And ‘tis the absolute truth, I swear it is.”

The much more sensible part of his mind cautioned him to push the young Weinberg away and Suzaku had, in fact, acknowledged the overwhelming merit of this course of action. But still his eyes fluttered shut when Gino leant down to kiss him, a gentle brush of lips upon lips. He whimpered softly, heart hammering wildly in his chest as the kiss took a firmer turn and developed into something much more passionate. He was left completely breathless when they parted, and the other man looked entirely too pleased with himself that Suzaku had to exert everything within his power to prevent a blush.

“I…think you need to go now,” he murmured faintly, and earned himself a wide, mischievous grin.

“No killing a wicked, perfidious Weinberg tonight?”

Suzaku looked away to hide any suggestion of discomfort his face might betray. “Not tonight, no,” he answered, steadily enough although he still failed to cover the breathlessness in his voice. “Consider this charity a gift since next week is my birthday.”

“Ah, next week?” Those blue eyes lit up in a way which made him immediately regret this excess of information. “Such a wonderful coincidence. I wonder if you will grant me one more tiny charity from your generous heart.”

He stared at the blond man, uneasiness and embarrassment mounting fast. “What?” he managed to ask after an effort to swallow. For one dreadful moment, he thought about another kiss – but _of course_ he would not grant this Weinberg another kiss. As if there had not been enough follies he had committed for the day.

“A permission to court you.”

For the third time in this relatively short duration of their encounter, Suzaku found himself utterly bereft of words and any ability to wield them. When they returned to him, it was in torrents so powerful that they easily overwhelmed whatever semblance of self-control he had left.

“Are you mad?” he could hear his voice was rising, and for once he didn’t care that someone might overhear. “My duty is to guard this family from yours!”

Gino shrugged his shoulders in a dismissive manner. “A tiny insignificant detail,” he said, his tone cheerful and confident. “I believe love will allow us to overlook one or two things in return of being a victim to its whims. Do I have your permission then?”

“Of course not!” Suzaku was certain that he was now shouting, and the heat on his cheeks certainly did not help.

“Well, then I shall have to win it,” Gino decided firmly and took his unoccupied hand to land an affectionate kiss on the back. “That and your heart.”

With a wish of good night and sweet dreams to smooth the frown on his brow, he then proceeded to take his leave. Suzaku was left staring at his disappearing shadow, still stunned into incoherence even when it had disappeared behind tall hedges and trees. A tiny part of him was relieved, for his meetings with the blond man had always left him in such a jumbled state not unlike that after an encounter with a whirlwind. He could not help but wonder if this spell would eventually wear out or would persist instead through future visits.

But surely he must not allow such meetings to take place ever again?

The idea that he was never to meet the other man again caused him a degree of uneasiness he had never quite felt before. Suzaku was so deeply troubled by this unexpected reaction that he almost jumped when he felt a light touch on his left shoulder. A pair of dark violet eyes greeted him coolly once he had turned around, sword once more ready to strike.

“Lelouch,” he breathed out in surprise, a mix of relief and fear swirling thickly inside him as the full impact of recognition caught up. The possibility that his friend had witnessed what which had just transpired between him and a son of the opposing family was daunting to say the least.

“I thought I heard voices,” Lelouch said calmly – much too calm in fact, that Suzaku felt almost sure that he _had_ been a witness.

“Voices?” he struggled to keep his own steady and busied himself with sheathing his sword. “I’m afraid I didn’t hear anything.”

“Perhaps I was wrong,” the other conceded but his clasp on Suzaku’s shoulder remained firm. “There is something I wish to discuss with you. Perhaps we can go back to your place to speak more comfortably?”

“Of course,” he answered quickly – a bit too hastily, perhaps, but Suzaku was much too relieved to care at the moment. He smiled at Lelouch and together they walked down the garden path, back to his cottage.

\-----

“Anya.”

She didn’t even blink when his face appeared in front of her window, followed by the rest of his body. Perhaps she was required to remind him of the late hour – and the utter impropriety this visit might seem to others who had no firsthand knowledge of the purely platonic nature of their relationship – but Anya was not one to burden herself with such trifles. She only looked at her visitor who had proceeded to kneel down next to her bed, bristling with uncontainable enthusiasm.

“You said once that you knew a man who did fireworks, did you not?”

A stony nod. “And?”

The grin which suddenly split his face was bursting with delight. “My saviour, my goddess, my everything. Pray tell me where I can find him or I shall be completely and utterly heartbroken.”

Seven years of long, powerful friendship was the only reason why she could resist rolling her eyes.

The fool love made out of people.

**End Part Two**


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